


Unaccountable Lights

by voleuse



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-27
Updated: 2008-10-27
Packaged: 2017-10-04 02:02:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voleuse/pseuds/voleuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>You lie here now in your physicalness, this beautiful degree of reality</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unaccountable Lights

**Author's Note:**

> Post-trilogy. Title and summary adapted from Galway Kinnell's _Poem of Night_.

It had been long, too long, since Will's last day upon land, and Jack's smile shone like false gold in the wavering torchlight. Will would understand, she knew, because Will always understood. And Wei Lin slid over the table into Jack's lap, and Elizabeth caught her breath, watching. If she could close her eyes, for just a minute, she knew she could remember the way that felt, lips against her throat, hands fumbling against her makeshift trousers.

But she couldn't close her eyes, because it would be a sign of weakness, and across the table, Jocard waited to take hold of her ship, scatter the distribution of power Jack's whimsy had created.

Wei Lin's gasp echoed, and Elizabeth wanted to touch them, wanted to flip her cards against the table and lose herself to skin and sweat. Before she could stand, let her actions waver before the brethren, Anamaria's hands slid against her shoulders. Elizabeth tilted her head back, and thought maybe this was the closest she could get.

"It's all right," Anamaria murmured, her lips ghosting against Elizabeth's hair. "Your husband wanted to know, too."

The assumption was so abrupt, so alien, that Elizabeth blinked, then laughed aloud. Maybe a few years ago, curiosity would have been prompt enough, but it was poor inspiration now.

Anamaria's hands were warm against her skin, and her nails sharp. "Ah," she said, and Elizabeth realized it was not only the brethren she should watch. "Not him, then."

Wei Lin twisted, and Jack's hands were out of sight, below the table's plane.

"Not," Elizabeth confessed, "_him_."

Anamaria's hands drifted higher, against Elizabeth's throat and curving into her hair, and this was all too great a distraction from the game. Elizabeth parted her lips, prepared to snap.

Jocard slammed his hands down, and the brethren laughed. The game was over.

Anamaria's fingers twisted in Elizabeth's hair. Tugged.

Elizabeth stood, and though nobody watched, she was careful to face the table as she withdrew.

*

 

Elizabeth spared a moment as they traversed, eased open a door to watch young Bill sleep. She resisted the urge to intrude further, to ruffle his hair. The sun would rise anew soon enough, and she had promised to teach him knots on the morrow.

Anamaria touched her waist, and her voice was gentle, a wordless croon. Elizabeth did not recognize the sound, at first.

They retreated from the room, and as she eased the door shut, Elizabeth smiled at the moonlight pooling around her son's bed.

*

 

The moonlight spilled through the high windows of her quarters, and Elizabeth lay back on her piled mattress, watched Anamaria shed vest and trousers and shirt. She marveled at the revelation of skin, and Anamaria laughed at her, at the moans that she did not manage to muffle as her clothes rustled, dragged against her skin.

She clutched at Anamaria's shoulders, dug her heels into the bed. She arched until the muscles of her thighs burned, and her hair felt heavy, wet, coiling against her throat. She was caught. She was joyful, and she was here.

Anamaria snuck kisses against her belly, in the hollow between her breasts. Their legs twined, hooked around each other, and Elizabeth opened her eyes, and they kissed.


End file.
